Busted
by Aoifa
Summary: Either he's dead, or Sammy's got to die. Whichever, Dean knows it's the only way he's going to get a moment's peace from now on... destiel, technically, but focusing on the brothers. Rated T for references.


Dean hurriedly zipped up his flies as he ran from the room, desperately trying to stop himself blushing. _Man __up, __man __up, __he__'__s __seen __worse_ –

Yeah – but not with _him_.

For once, it wasn't even embarrassing about the position – it was about the person. That was definitely a first.

Well, no, not a first – that had been one time Sam had walked in on him when Dean had been with his – as in, _Sam__'__s_previous-night's attempted hook-up. Who'd told him – _Sam_that she was taken. That time had been about the person, yep, but this was . . . yeah, this was worse. Not cos Sam liked – god no – but because of the secrecy. Because Dean should have told him, he knew he should have, but . . . And if Sam had thrown a hissy fit _that_ time . . .

Eventually, Dean saw Sam's shaking shoulders through the doorway to Bobby's kitchen – he seemed to leaning on the counter. Shit, he wasn't crying? Seriously hoping he looked presentable, Dean slowly walked in. "Uh . . . Sam?"

He didn't get a response. So, completely going against every single damn thought in his head, Dean braced himself and took another step forwards. He considered patting Sam's shoulder, but had an image of Sam karate-flinging him over and into the sink. No. "Uh, look, man, I know I should have told you, and everything, but you know how crap I am..." he sidled around, to face Sam, "And I was scared how you'd react, something that – _you__'__re __laughing!__"_

Cos he was. The son of a bitch wasn't leaning on the counter in sorrow; he was clinging on for dear life so he didn't start _rolling __on __the __floor __with __laughter._"You – you," choked Sam, his grin clearly too wide to let him talk like a human being, "You _went __gay __for __the __nerd __angel!__"_

Any sympathy Dean might have held for Sam went straight out the window. Face falling blank, Dean started to glare. "I'm sorry?"

"Dude, come on," Sam laughed, "I think you actually went so far hetero that you went the full circle into gay! Man, I _knew_ you've been over-compensating lately-"

Huh? "What – I haven't been over compensating anything ..." had he? With a sudden rush of panic, Dean thought back over the last few weeks. _Had_ he? "I mean ... I haven't ... been flirting ... oh god, I have, haven't I?"

Dean couldn't have made Sam laugh harder if he'd clucked like a chicken and done the Macarena. All of a sudden, Sam was bent double all over again, bright red and almost hyperventilating. "I'm glad – you've finally – noticed!"

Watching his brother slowly die, Dean relaxed. He leant back on the counter beside Sam, and smiled. "So – you're not going to go and have a big freak-out on me over this?" he asked casually, when it seemed like Sam was done.

Sam shook his head, and turned to lean beside Dean, Cheshire-cat grin still stuck firmly in place. "Nah, man! If either of us should be having a freak out, it should be you. _You__'__re_ the one who's turned gay."

Dean grimaced. Oh gods. "Stop saying that."

Sam smirked. "Gay."

"Stop."

"Gay."

"Just shut up now, or lose a ball. Simple as."

Sam laughed, pushing himself away for the counter and heading over the fridge. He pulled out two beers then made his way back to Dean, and resuming his place against the counter. He passed a beer, and they snapped the caps off against the side, clinked the heads together, and took a sip.

"So," Sam said slowly, "D'you like . . . _like_ him?"

"Well, _yeah_," Dean frowned, "I wouldn't be, y'know, if I didn't _like_the guy."

"No," Sam said patiently, "I meant . . . . . . _like_."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, sorry, I should have known you were speaking girl speak. And, if you're really gonna make me say it, then yeah, I think I do."

They took another scarily synchronized drink. But then, they'd been doing it for a while, the whole drinking and talking thing. It was a familiar routine.

"Do you," and from the way Sam said the words slowly, Dean knew something worse was coming. "Do you love him?"

Horrified, Dean rose and turned to face him. "Dude, _no_," he said flatly, "God no, I am not saying that! How can you even _ask_ me that?"

Sam grinned. "What, scared of your _feeeeelings?__"_

Furious, Dean brandished his bottle at Sam. "Don't even go there. Bad direction. Very, very bad direction!"

"Fine!" Sam chuckled, raising his hands, "I'll change direction!"

"_Thank_ you," Dean muttered, settling back down again. He took a sip, but Sam seemed to be thinking.

"Hm, then," Sam said, resting the bottle top against his chin, lips twitching, "Do you bottom or top?"

Any beer, spit, and possibly _teeth_ Dean had in his mouth went _flying._"WHAT? What – how – _god_, man, how do you even – I don't – Sam, that's _gross!__"_

And that son of a bitch was just sitting there, smirking at him, and it was taking every ounce of self control Dean had to stop himself from taking a swing and the smug bastard. "You're going to die," he threatened, once again brandishing his beer like a weapon, "You'd better be careful, every time you use shampoo, toothpaste-"

"Dean?"

Dean spun around. Cas was standing in the doorway, that cute, puzzled look on his face, head at a slight tilt, and his hair – _oh __god __that __hair_. Suddenly, Dean decided Sam could ask any god damn questions he wanted, cos he wasn't going to be there to hear them.

Dean turned to face Sam, but started walking backwards towards Cas, the doorway, and ultimately their bedroom. Or the bathroom. He hadn't decided yet. "So long, sucker," he said smugly, "I've got to go get laid, but I'm sure if you right your shitty questions down I'll read them, and shred them later."

Sam smirked again, taking a long pull from his beer before muttering, "Gay."

Laughing himself, Dean spun around and flicked Sam the finger over his shoulder, before looping that same arm around Cas.

So, now Sammy knew. A while ago, Dean might have thought that it was a good thing, that Sam was cool – but now Dean new the nightmare for what it was. Sam would never let him have a single moment's peace.

_Well_, Dean thought, following his angel up the stairs and smirking_, __I__'__m __just __going __to __have __to __give __as __good __as __I __get__.__.__._


End file.
